A Game of Inches

As amazing as yesterday's day of golf was, it was nearly disastrous. On the 6th hole, a dogleg right that is drivable by long hitters who are able to lift their drives over the trees, I was standing in the middle of the green, waiting for one of the guys in our foursome to putt. I heard a thud, then jumped when I realized that the noise was created by a ball landing between my legs. The guy on the tee hadn't bothered to see if the green was clear before trying to drive it. He had hit a great drive and would be putting for an eagle, but had the ball been six feet higher when it arrived where I was standing, I'd have been hit in the head, since the ball mark was directly between my feet. As angry as I was at the dolt who hit the ball, I'd have been a lot angrier had the ball hit me, so I suppose I should consider myself lucky.
I'm working on it.

I practiced a few putts on the carpet to an electronic ball-return machine while watching reruns of Golf's Big Break on the Golf Channel. And now I'll read the latest issue of Golf Digest, the equipment issue.

18 Below